


in Love with the shape of You

by GilgaNyan (NarryEm)



Series: History Makers!!! on ICE [31]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Explicit Language, Fluff, Friendship/Love, M/M, Post-Canon, Puppy Love, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Swearing, or kitten love since yura has a kitteh, they are so cute ahhhhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 09:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9315503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarryEm/pseuds/GilgaNyan
Summary: Otabek has had his eyes on Yuri Plisetsky for five years now.  Becoming friends with the beautiful and talented Russian skater is one of his dreams come to life





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Shape of You" by Ed Sheeran
> 
>  
> 
> Yay! My first ‘official’ Otabek x Yura! ...and I challenged myself to write from Otabek’s pov. Why did that do that…  
> I initially planned for a longer fic that details their relationship over the period of a few months but y’know, school (re)started and I have a certain space-themed AU that I want to work on soon-ish as well.
> 
> since in canon, they have been friends for only a few days, I’ll wait a few fics before I make a mess upon their innocent, puppy/kitten love relationship ;)  
>  ~~makes dolphin noises while imagining that their first time would be like~~

 

Otabek is watching.

He is always observing. He is constantly reminding himself of his manners.  He is aware of what the other skaters think of him: the silent one.  The enigma.  That guy from Kazakhstan whose style changed drastically compared to the last season.  And he always has his eyes on a certain blond skater from Russia.

They first met five years ago at a summer training camp.  Otabek was initially ashamed to have been placed in the novice class.  However, when a blond with the grace and beauty of a swan caught his attention, all doubt and half-formed regret fled his thoughts.  It wasn’t merely his beauty that drew Otabek’s eyes to him; it was the soldier-like determination and strength shining in his green eyes that held Otabek captive.

Otabek has to admit: it was the slightest bit disappointing to discover that Yuri Plisetsky did not remember their first encounter.  That mattered little, though.  What mattered was making new memories. Spending the entire Grand Prix Final banquet with Yuri sounded like the optimal way to achieve that.

He cannot help but gaze fondly as Yuri chats excitedly about the upcoming Russian nationals.  Yuri has admitted that he hates social functions like this and Otabek was glad when Yuri asked for Otabek to never leave his side for the night.

“I don’t care that the geezer is coming back,” Yuri scoffs.  He takes a swig from his glass of water.  “There is no way that he can get ready for it in a few days.  You don’t think he has been planning for this the whole time, do you?”

“I believe in you,” Otabek agrees.  “I know that you have the skills to take this momentum with you and win gold again.  You shouldn’t concern yourself with Viktor’s return too much.”

Yuuri grins.  “I think you’re just being a good friend.”

Otabek returns a tight-lipped smile.  “I am simply stating a possibility that is likely to happen.”

Yuri groans as he leans over the table, propping his chin up with his right hand.  “Ugh, why are you so good with your words?”

Otabek shrugs.  “I don’t think that I am good with my words per se.  I simply speak from my heart.”

“There you go again,” Yuri accuses.  The soft, genuine smile on his lips and in his eyes, however, belies his spiteful tone.  “Fucking hell.  Do you study poetry or some shit at school?

“I haven’t started university yet,” Otabek answers.  “I’m not even sure if i want to go into tertiary education.  My plans as of now is to focus on skating until i retire, whenever that may be.  I can always return to education if that is what I want to do later down the road.”

“You’re lucky that you have that option,” Yuri grumbles.  “I have a lot of make-up assignments to do when I’m back home.  Fuck my life.”

Otabek nearly chokes on a sip of water he was taking.  He tries to dispel a rather indecent image from his head as Yuri leans in further, standing up halfway, until their faces are within centimetres from one another.

“Beka?  You okay?”

Definitely not.  Hearing Yuri blurt out a nickname at this timing only worsens the situation.  Yuri’s cheeks grow red as realization dawns upon him.

“I’m. . . fine,” Otabek manages after several coughs.  

Several seconds pass.  Yuri has not returned to fully sitting in his seat.  Otabek wonders if Yuri can hear his heartbeat, given how wildly and loudly it is.

Yuri smiles shyly, a rarity from the brazen Russian.  “You don’t mind it if I call you that, right?”

Otabek nods.  “With one condition.”

“Let’s hear it first.”

“I get to call you Yura.”

Yuri’s cheeks turn red again.  “Not Yurochka?” he smirks.

“But all of your fans call you Yurochka, do they not?”

“It’s fine, then,” Yuri mutters.   

Yuri sits back down, slouching against the back of his chair.  His eyes leave Otabek’s face in favour of looking past Otabek’s shoulder to scan the room.

“Ah, fuck,” Yuri mutters.  “Those idiots are gonna regret this in the morning".

Otabek turns around to see what Yura is talking about. Viktor and Yuuri are stood by the refreshments table.  Yuuri’s hand is hovering over a piece of pastry as Viktor has his body all but draped over Yuuri’s, visibly inebriated.  Judging  by Yuuri’s facial expression, he is not that far behind either too.  Viktor whispers something in Yuuri's ear, which causes Yuuri’s face to grow a darker shade of crimson. Viktor drags Yuuri away from the refreshments and starts dancing their pair skate routine in a small space between the tables and groups of people.

Otabek  returns his full, undivided attention to Yura when the Russian boy snorts at the happy couple. More so than annoyance and secondhand embarrassment, Otabek sees frustration and resentment in those familiar green eyes of a soldier.

"Let's get outta here," Yura grumbles.

“If that is that is what you want.”

Yura scowls, standing up.  “It is.”

“Then let’s go grab our coats and go.” Otabek stands up as well.

“Did you ride your motorcycle here?” Yura smirks as they make their way to the coat check.

Otabek smiles.  “As a matter of fact, I did.”

Yura snickers.  "I can’t believe that your coach lets you bike around.  Isn’t he worried about you getting yourself into an accident?”

“Which is precisely why wear a helmet at all times and a leather jacket,” Otabek replies.  He retrieves Yura’s outer jacket for him.

“So the jacket wasn’t just for show?” Yura takes his jacket and mumbles a quick thanks.

Otabek feels the corner of his lips twitch up.  “Not entirely, no,” he replies, donning the said leather jacket.

“I know I said this already but you looked so damn cool when you rode into the alley and told me to get on.  I really was not in the mood to deal with the fangirls.  Thanks again.”

“And as I have said already, don’t mention it.”

They exit the banquet hall together.  Otabek leads Yura to the place where he parked his bike.  When they reach his bike, he hands Yura the spare helmet first before he puts his own helmet on.

“Where to, Yura?” Otabek asks, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Yura has climbed onto the back safely.

“Anywhere but here,” Yura mutters.

Otabek smiles. “You have to be more specific than that.”

“I dunno.  You decide, Beka.”

“We can go down to Gaudí Avenue and walk around,’ Otabek suggests.

“On second thought, I don’t really wanna go explore the city,” Yura grumbles.  “Let’s just hang out at the hotel.”

“Okay,” Otabek acquiesces.

Yura beams.  “Thanks, Beka.”  

Otabek’s heart skips half a beat.  “No problem.”

It’s a short ride back to their hotel.  They don’t run into anyone who recognise them as they make their way up to Yura’s room.  Yura’s room is neat: a barely unpacked suitcase sits in one corner and some of his clothes are strewn across the floor.

“So, uhm, what do you want to do?” Yura asks, plopping down onto the bed.

“Anything is fine with me.  I’ll leave it up to you.”

Yura wrinkles his nose.  “You’re not gonna be mad if I pick something boring to you, are you?  ‘Cause honestly, I’m tired and have nothing I wanna do in particular.”

“You mentioned before that you listen to some metal bands.  I’m always on the lookout for new music so I would appreciate it if you told me the names of your favourites.”

Yura’s eyes light up.  He pulls out his mobile and taps away at the screen.  Otabek takes a seat next to Yura on the bed.

“Somehow, it doesn’t surprise me that you’re interested in metal bands, too,” Yura comments offhandedly.  “Right now I’m really into Abdication but you can’t say no to a classic like Metallica.  Here.”

Otabek lets his eyes slip shut as he listens to the song.  It’s quite melodic for a metal song and different from what Otabek usually listens to.  He opens his eyes again when the song ends, only to find out that Yura has scooted closer to him.

“So?” Yura asks, his eyes shining with excitement.  “Whatcha think?”

“I like it,” Otabek replies.  “I guess I listen more of the death metal variety but I will look into this band more when I have the time.”

“That makes me happy.  I can lend you some of their CD's if you'd like,” Yura says with a huge grin, followed by a yawn.  He checks the clock on his mobile.  “Damn.  I didn’t realise that it was this late already.”

“Should I leave and let you sleep then?”

Yura shakes his head.  “Nope.  You promised not to leave my side tonight.   Friends have sleepovers, right?”

“That’s true,” Otabek confirms.  “But I don’t want to sleep in a suit.  Let me go grab something more comfortable to sleep in.  Grab a shower while I’m at it, as well.”

Yura pouts.  “Fine.  Hurry back, though.  I want to show you some cool shit before we go to bed.”

“Will do,” Otabek replies, giving Yura a thumbs-up.  Yura returns the gesture before he starts to unbutton his shirt.  Otabek takes that as his cue to leave Yura’s room.

Come to think of it, Otabek has never had the chance to sleep over at a friend’s house before.  To be honest, he has been too busy to have a close friend to have a sleep-over with.  He supposes that things will change now that he and Yura are friends.  He wonders what will happen after Barcelona.  Otabek was planning on returning to Almaty to train but now, now he is not so sure anymore.  He would not mind changing his home rink again if it meant that he could spend more time with Yura.

He takes a quick shower and returns to Yura’s room in a pair of worn-in sweatpants and t-shirt.  When he gets no reply upon knocking a few times, he hesitates to enter the room.

Yura is lying on the bed, having changed into a pair of pyjama pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt.  His eyes are closed and judging by the slow rise and fall of his chest, he must be asleep.  A smile graces Otabek’s lips as he walks over to the bed. After switching off the lights, he climbs into the bed and lies down next to Yura, leaving a few centimetres of space between them.

“Spokushki nochi, Yura.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to our smol Ice Tiger of Russia all of my susbsequent Otayuri/Yurabeka fics will have at least T rating :3
> 
> I can't wait to share my s ~~tar wars~~ pace themed Yurabeka fic with you 
> 
> follow me on [tumblr](http://www.simply-emily24.tumblr.com) for 'updates' on my WIPs, sneak peeks, and general randomness  
> ~(*°♡ °*)~


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